Legacy
by Mertiya
Summary: The adventure is over, and the people involved are trying their hardest to patch up their lives again. But it may not be easy, especially when a group of unprincipled schemers kidnap three of the main characters.
1. Damn Cheap Hotel Rooms

**Legacy**

**Disclaimer: **Michael Crichton owns Jurassic Park, and Jeff Goldblum, whom I always see as Malcolm after his brilliant job in the film, owns himself.

**A/N: **Strangely enough, this began as an assignment for my biology class in ninth grade. We were supposed to write an epilogue to Jurassic Park, and this was the beginning of mine. There's quite a bit more to it, too, but this is the reworked beginning and best part. If people like this, I might consider going on with it, though the rest will probably require a lot more reworking. Please R&R! (Yes, I know, the traditional author's plea; well, if you do, we'll stop bugging you!) Oh, and this story ignores the existence of The Lost World, so if that bugs you, I'd rather you just didn't read this than wrote a flame. Thanks!

Ian Malcolm lay on his back in the small hotel room in Costa Rica, trying to ignore the twinges of pain from his leg. He could hear a low murmur of voices from the neighboring rooms, the paper-thin walls not being much of an obstruction.

"Damn cheap hotel rooms," he muttered to himself, rolling over onto his stomach and suppressing a gasp of pain when his bad leg bent the wrong way. "Hell," he grumbled to himself, hoping that the Costa Rican government wasn't planning on keeping them here much longer. It was bad enough, he mused, to have been half-killed by a tyrannosaurus rex and nearly eaten alive by velociraptors without having to stay in this godforsaken country till he died, too. The memories were still horrifyingly real, and he shied away from them. Instead, he turned his introspective mind outward, listening to the noise and bustle outside his hotel room door.

He could hear Alan Grant giving Tim Murphy a lecture about the nesting habits of Maiasaurs, and he wondered briefly how Tim could possibly bear to hear anything about dinosaurs--even the "friendly" kind--after their recent experience. He could also hear Donald Gennaro picking a fight with some poor hotel-maid about the condition of the bathroom. Malcolm thought cynically that Gennaro hadn't changed at all throughout their entire horrific stay on Jurassic Park. Malcolm stirred restlessly again, and then his ears caught the low, muffled sound of a woman's sobs. _Who…?_ he wondered. _Oh, hell. Ellie._

He waited a few minutes, but there was no indication of the sobs abating, or of anyone going in to comfort her. "Hell," Malcolm said again, sliding painfully toward the edge of the bed. He groaned in pain as he used his hands to help his bad leg out of bed. He groped for the wooden cane he kept leaning against the wall, gripped it, and leaned heavily on it. Then he grabbed an old, tattered black bathrobe from a hook and, pulling it over his pajamas, limped out the door.

He could hear the sobs more clearly now, and there was no doubt that they were issuing from Ellie's room. Malcolm half wished he were back in Jurassic Park, watching the raptors chew through the skylight. He was generally pretty good with women, but the few times he'd tried to comfort somebody, he'd tripped over his own tongue so many times that it had turned out to be a complete fiasco. He raised his hand and rapped on Ellie's door. There was a short pause, and then Ellie's tearful voice called, "Who is it?"

"Uh…Ian. Ian Malcolm?"

"Wh-what do you want?"

"I…uh…I heard you crying, and…um…I wondered if I could help?" Malcolm tried to shift nervously back and forth and gave an muttered curse as he leaned the wrong way on his injured leg. There was no reply to his query, but a few moments later, Ellie's door was opened, and Ellie looked out, her face blotched and her eyes red with crying.

"You can come in if you like," she said quietly, rubbing a hand across her eyes.

"Uh…thanks…uh…" Malcolm limped after Ellie into the small hotel room. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Ellie sniffled a little, and almost laughed. "Oh, it's nothing. On top of what's happened? What we've been through? It's really nothing. I guess it's just the last straw." She dropped disconsolately onto the bed and Malcolm sat down gingerly next to her. "So what's 'nothing'?" he asked as gently as he could, amazed he could even get the words out, through a combination of embarrassment and sudden acute awareness of his proximity to a very beautiful woman.

"This is going to sound really stupid, but--Harold broke our engagement." She laughed again, bitterly, and without letting him say anything she continued, "Sounds so dumb, doesn't it? So teenage. 'My boyfriend broke up with me'," she mocked herself in a high, false voice.

"Uh…no, you don't sound teenage. Um…why did he break up with you?" Malcolm asked. _Damn, I sound like such an idiot_, he thought.

"He said…he said I should have told him before going away like I did," said Ellie, her voice strained.

"Well, you were only going to be away for the weekend, weren't you?" Malcolm asked, not knowing what else to say, and at the same time, wishing desperately it could be anything but the obvious.

"Yeah, I know. But he won't listen, and it's not as if I can just tell him everything that happened."

"No, that's true. But if he weren't a real bast-er--" Malcolm broke off, realizing it probably wasn't judicious to say that about Ellie's ex-husband-to-be. "Um…that is, he should have understood."

"I know, and you're right. It's just this, on top of everything else." Tears sparkled in Ellie's eyes again, threatening to fall.

"Uh…it'll be okay, Ellie, really," he patted her awkwardly on the back.

"Yeah, I guess," she sighed. "Things always look worse at night."

"Um…shall I….uh…make you a cup of…ah, warm milk or cocoa or something?" Malcolm blushed and turned his face away to hide his embarrassment.

"Thanks, that's really sweet of you, Ian. Warm milk would be great. I guess I better take a sleeping pill, too. I'll get that if you make the milk."

"Ah, okay, um…I think this hotel has tinned milk. That okay with you?"

Ellie nodded, half-smiling. "Sure."

Malcolm ran a hand through his hair and wondered why he felt so stumbling and gawky and clumsy--just like a damned adolescent again. As he stirred the milk he mused, _Talk about the unpredictability of life. Would I ever have imagined all that's happened since I went to Hammond's park before it did? Never in a million years._

"Owch! Damn!" Malcolm sucked a burnt finger as he poured the hot milk into a warm glass and added a spoonful of sugar. When he turned back from the portable water-boiler, he saw that Ellie was sitting up in bed with the covers up to her waist.

"Here you go," he said and unceremoniously handed her the mug.

"Thanks, Ian," Ellie smiled at him as she sipped her drink.

"Uh…no problem." _'Uh'! My God, I sound like a damn college student! What is wrong with me!_

"Should I go now?" he asked, gesturing with his thumb at the door.

"No, why don't you stay awhile?" Ellie asked casually, but maybe a little too eagerly. Malcolm caught the tell-tale gleam of a blush on her cheeks as she surveyed him. _I don't believe it_, he thought. _She's rebuffed me every chance she's had. I'm probably misreading the situation completely. _

"Are you...sure?" he queried uncertainly.

"Yes.I promise I'll stop being a wet rag," she managed a smile. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, the first indication that the sleeping pill she had swallowed was taking effect.

"Sure. All right."He sat down on the side of the bed again, careful not to tip it too much. Ellie drained the last drops from the cup of milk and set it down on her bedside table. She looked inquiringly at Ian.

"Ah…why don't you just…go to sleep now?" Malcolm asked, surprising himself.

"Oh, okay," Ellie smiled at him and yawned. "Come to think of it, I am a little sleepy." She laughed at herself. "Sorry. Of course I am. Sleeping pills make me dopey."

He shrugged. "And you've had a long day."

"Yeah."

She snuggled down into the blankets, and Malcolm gently drew the covers up around her chin. Ellie giggled sleepily. "Nobody's tucked me in since I was nine years old," she murmured, and one hand snaked out of the coverlet to hold Malcolm's. He swallowed hard, but did not remove his hand. He watched Ellie's breathing grow slower and steadier as she slipped into sleep. He put out one hand to stroke her hair and then drew his legs up onto the bed and lay down next to her.

"Well, I don't want to wake her up, do I?" he mumbled to himself.

Dr. Alan Grant came in the next morning to wake Ellie up and found Malcolm asleep, fully-dressed, on the bed beside her. After the initial shock had passed, Grant smiled and tiptoed quietly out of the room, careful not to wake the slumbering couple.


	2. Late at Night in Costa Rica

Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Jurassic Park. This makes me sad.

A/N: Okay, I've decided I WILL go on with the story, and I do actually have something of an idea of where it's going, now, happily. Please R&R!

**A few hours earlier…**

Ellie was alone in a dark corridor._ I've got to turn the electricity on, _she thought, though her heart was in her mouth. _Come on, girl,_ she told herself sternly. _They're counting on you._ She started off at a brisk trot. Her footsteps echoed loudly against the metal floor. Too loudly. It almost sounded as if someone were following her.

A sour taste sprang to Ellie's tongue, and the hairs prickled on the back of her neck. She stopped abruptly, and someone--or something--behind her took two steps and stopped as well. _Oh, God._ Her limbs seemed to turn to water. _The electricity--if I can get to the electricity--somewhere there must be a gate--a door--some way to stop them--_

She started walking again, just a shade more quickly than before. Her heart felt gripped in a vice. Was the step behind her quickening? She glanced backward but could see nothing. She stepped once more--glanced back once more--and suddenly, there was fetid breath on her ear. It was in front of her. Ellie's heart seized up, her head whipped round. She stood, hands working, her legs tensed, as the creature surveyed her lazily, its glowing yellow eyes almost amused. It cocked its head, a birdlike motion, and then with a violence frightening in its swift savagery, seized her shoulder in its teeth and flung her to the ground. Its deadly claw rose upward--Ellie screamed and screamed and--

"Ellie! Ellie!" She was still screaming as she sat bolt upright in the bed, her whole body drenched in sweat. "Ellie, calm down! It's okay!" Strong arms wrapped around her, and she found herself shuddering in the embrace of Ian Malcolm. Chagrined but still shivering violently, Ellie got out between chattering teeth, "--sorry--stupid--nightmare--"

His hand, surprisingly gentle, rubbed slowly over her back. "I understand," he responded.

"I guess you have nightmares too?"

"Nightmares!" Malcolm laughed harshly, explosively. "God, those memories are scarcely less vivid in my waking hours! Damn Costa Rican doctors aren't worth a thing. I have to tell you, I've, uh, found morphine a tempting alternative at times."

Ellie laughed shakily. "Don't I know it! And I've never touched the stuff!"

"PTSD. Wonder how the kids are dealing." He was speaking shortly, in bursts, trying to take her mind off the nightmare, Ellie suspected. "Tim seems to be attaching himself to Grant--pretty healthy--but Lex--I dunno."

"She's been withdrawn," Ellie agreed. "God, who am I kidding? I've been withdrawn! I've barely come out of this room since I got here. I've got this horrible feeling that anywhere I go, there'll be raptors breathing down my neck."

"I, uh, know the feeling. Hell, do I know the feeling!"

His arms tightened around her, and Ellie rested her head against his chest. The steady beat of his heart drummed reassuringly against her cheek. "Sorry I woke you," she said. "It's late."

"Not a problem."

"I guess we should try to get some more sleep."

"Yeah. Sure. Sleep."

Slowly, Malcolm lay backward in the bed, his arms loosening around Ellie, but her head stayed on his arm, and he didn't try to move it. Slowly, slowly, Ellie's breathing softened and she slipped into sleep.

* * *

This time it was Malcolm who awakened her, thrashing around so violently he flung her halfway across the bed. This time it was she who grabbed him, shaking his arm half in desperation, calling his name, bringing him, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, out of the hellish pit of his memories, she who held him tight to her until he spoke with a laugh, "I guess it's a good thing I stayed in here." Then, "Damn!"

"Are you all right?"

Malcolm winced. "I think so. Damn T-rex--damn doctors--damn leg!"

"At least you still have it."

"God, I hate being right," Malcolm said glumly, somewhat out of nowhere. Startled, Ellie asked, "What?"

"I hate being right. I knew everything would go wrong, but in my stubbornness I wanted to see it all go wrong…I wanted, um, to be there. Stupidest thing I've ever done in my life."

"You haven't got a monopoly on stupidity, you know."

"Maybe not. I wish I did. Then no one else would do such fundamentally absurd, idiotic, foolhardy, crazy, insane things as that damn Hammond!"

"Don't keep thinking about it. It won't help."

"I want to think about it," Malcolm said pettishly. Then, a moment later, "Uh…sorry…uh, PTSD makes me snappy. Well, no, I'm always snappy. It, uh, makes me especially snappy."

"It's okay. I get weepy. You get snappy, I get weepy, they're probably equally annoying."

"You aren't annoying." The tone was soft, sincere, and so unlike Ian's usual snide sarcasm or slick scientific "explanations" that Ellie blushed, thankful he couldn't see it in the dark.

"I'd return the compliment, but I'd be lying." For a heartbeat there was silence, and then Ellie laughed. "I'm kidding. You aren't annoying either."

His chin rested in her hair. "Good sense of humor," he commented. "Too bad I didn't have much chance to see it on that island."

"Yes, even before the fiasco I was much too intent on my work. And I was engaged, so I wasn't flirting…" her voice trailed off.

She felt Malcolm's arms tighten around her in the dark. "I was, though. Uh. Flirting."

"Yes, you do a great job of interspersing science with pick-up lines."

"Ha. Yes. Meaning what exactly?"

"The chaos theory explanation? The water droplet? Strange attractions?"

"That wasn't exactly my-um- best effort."

"In that case, I don't want to hear your best."

"Not under any circumstances?"

"Absolutely not."

"All right. I won't treat you to a lecture on Einstein's Theory of Relativity."

"Einstein's Theory of Relativity?"

"Sure."

I won't bite. I will not ask him how Einstein's Theory of Relativity is his best effort.

She didn't say anything. After a moment, Malcolm continued, "Made you curious, though, didn't it?"

Damn the man! "Maybe. Only a mind such as yours would stoop to such a thing."

"Maybe. But it's effective. Remember, three ex-Mrs. Malcolms."

"You must be a terror to live with."

"I'm a mathematician. It's part of the job description. That and the fact that two of my wives were unable to fathom how an intelligent man could live on a professor's salary."

"Spoiled, huh?"

"You got it."

"For a man who claims to have good taste in women, you've certainly picked out a lovely bunch."

"Yeah, well…let's go to sleep." Going to shy away from the topic, eh? I'll get it out of you sometime, Ellie thought. But she was sleepy and his suggestion was hitting right on target. "Good idea," she yawned. "I'm tired."

She settled back onto the bed, nestling onto his arm and once more allowed herself to slip into sleep.


	3. A Rock and a Hard Place

**Disclaimer:** The brilliant Michael Crichton owns Jurassic Park and its characters. I do not, sadly.

**A/N:** I realize this fic is a bit slow in getting started, but I think it might turn out to be quite long. At any rate, please R&R, and then I will give you a new chapter. Yay!

The loud jangling of his phone wrenched Ian Malcolm out of sleep, suddenly and brutally. Grumbling to himself, he yanked it up from his bedside table, ignoring the twinge of pain from his leg. "Hello?" his voice slurred into the telephone.

"Dr. Malcolm?" It was Hammond's prim, genial voice. _Damn him!_

"What do you want?" The words came out ruder than Malcolm had intended. He was tired, and his head was aching.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Malcolm, did I wake you?"

"Yes," Malcolm answered shortly. He squinted at the clock. 9:00 a.m. "I guess it was time for me to be getting up anyhow. I was up late last night grading papers. My final exam."

"I see. Well, I wouldn't have called you, Dr. Malcolm, but--" _This had better be good. If he calls me Dr. Malcolm once more I'll throw the phone across the room_. It wasn't that Malcolm particularly disliked his title; he was justifiably proud of it. It was just that there was something in Hammond's voice that suggested a distaste for Ph.D.'s in general and for Malcolm in particular. Well, the feeling was mutual.

"--but I've suddenly found myself without anyone to look after Lex and Tim tonight. I have a rather important business meeting, and you're the only one I could call."

"What, Dr. Grant not in?"

"He is also at a meeting."

"Why not try Ellie? I'm sure she'd be only too happy to oblige."

There was an impatient sigh at the other end of the phone. "To be quite honest, Lex and Tim have been asking after you."

_Damn! Well, I guess I can't escape now. And I like the kids. It's their grandfather I can't stand._

"Fine. What time do you need me?"

"Quarter to seven, if that's possible."

"It's, uh, possible," Malcolm grunted. "I'll see you then." He slammed the phone down onto the receiver with a feeling of satisfaction. Then he stretched and yawned and dragged himself out of bed. He pulled on his black bathrobe--still the same one; somehow he found it comforting. He reached for the cane that hung over the end of his bed and grasped it. Despite several months having passed since the party's return from Costa Rica, Malcom's leg still had a bad habit of collapsing on him if he rested too much weight on it for too long a time.

He walked stiffly over to the refrigerator, glanced at the notes he kept plastered all over it--everything from obscure mathematical formulae to reminders of engagements he had planned. His eye skimmed over them from force of habit. _The derivative of arcsin x plus…Friday, haircut…integral of nine x squared…dinner with Ellie at seven…fractals…dinner with Ellie--? _

"Damn!" Malcolm struck the fridge forcibly with his hand. He had completely forgotten that he and Ellie had planned dinner and a movie tonight. Well, he had two choices: either he could call Hammond and cancel, or call Ellie and try to explain.

He called Hammond.

Busy signal. _Damn!_ He dropped the phone into its cradle, deciding he'd wait and try Hammond again a little later. He waited half-an-hour and busied himself industriously with working on his latest text-book, then picked up the phone and tried again. Still a busy signal. _What the hell is Hammond doing?_

An hour and a half later, the phone finally rang. A familiar young voice answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello? Uh…it's Ian Malcolm…"

"Hi, Dr. Malcolm, this is Lex! Timmy and I are really looking forward to seeing you tonight!" Her voice sounded genuinely enthusiastic. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to speak to Grandpa?"

"Uh, yeah, but, um, I guess it wasn't really important." Somehow, Malcolm had heard a plea in Lex's voice when she said she was looking forward to seeing him, some extra overtone that made him reluctant to disappoint her. "No, in fact, uh, I'll just talk to him tonight when I see you."

"Okay. I'll tell him you called."

"No, uh, you don't need to bother."

"All right. Well, bye."

"Goodbye. I'll see you tonight."

He hung up slowly, thoughtfully. What had it been, what extra note in Lex's voice had prompted him to change his mind? He wasn't really sure, but he hoped he'd find out tonight, or he'd feel an awful fool. He looked down at the phone and grimaced. This meant calling Ellie and canceling. Well, there was no time like the present. He dialed. Three rings and then she picked up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Ellie, it's Ian. Uh, I'm afraid something has come up and I'll have to, I mean, I'm sorry but, uh, I can't make it tonight."


	4. The Babysitter

**Disclaimer:** I own the plot and some of the bad guys who eventually show up. I don't own anything else.

**A/N:** I know this has taken me awhile to update, but it's kind of at a point where I'm being writer's blocked and having trouble, and I like to be fairly far ahead of where I'm updating when I'm writing, but this isn't too far behind, and I have written some, so here it is. Enjoy!

The words sounded hollow to Ellie's ears. Trying to conceal her disappointment, she spoke into the phone, "But--Ian--I mean, of course if you have to, but why?"

"I, uh, I just agreed to babysit Hammond's grandchildren--and--"

"You _what_?"

"No, look, it's not as stupid as it sounds--"

"Damn it, Ian, we've been planning this dinner for weeks!" Ellie exploded angrily. Somehow, it was the last straw. She hadn't seen Ian in a week, hadn't spoken to him in two. She continued, her voice taut and hard to hide the tears building behind it. "Just as soon as both our finals are finished and graded, you said! The perfect dinner, you said! God, I should have known better than to trust a mathematician!"

"Ellie--" his voice pleaded with her, but she was past listening. He probably had some other woman, he was probably two-timing her--logically, she knew she was overreacting utterly, but emotionally she couldn't help herself. She was having trouble at work with some of her snider colleagues and if she had been being really honest with herself, would have known that most of her pent-up anger and frustration was against them, not Ian. But yesterday had been an incredibly frustrating day, and today a million little things had already gone wrong, so Ellie was in no mood to be logical. Chaos theory, but there it was. "No wonder there are three ex-Mrs.-Malcolms! Well, don't expect me to be the fourth!" She slammed the phone down and stalked off into her room, where she lay on the bed, turning things over and over again in her mind. Quite without meaning to, she fell asleep.

When she woke up, she felt better and much worse at the same time. _God, how could I have said all those awful things to Ian? I'd better call him and apologize. It's not his fault that my co-professors are sexist jerks._

She got the answering machine. "Hello? Ian, it's Ellie. I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry. I should never have exploded at you like I did. It didn't have anything to do with you, really. Please call me. Please don't be too angry if you can help it, though if you are, I deserve it. Um, bye."

Feeling at once foolish, guilty and a little relieved, she hung up.

* * *

"Damn!" Malcolm swore as he heard the click on the other end of the phone. _She's overreacting_, part of his mind said. _Yeah, well, Beardsley has been giving her a hard time. She's probably stressed. And this isn't helping her stress levels._ He sighed. Oh, well. There was no help for it. Ellie got into flaming tempers at times, unlike Malcolm, who became icily cynical when he was angry. The plus side to Ellie's tempers was that they generally didn't last very long. _She'll probably cool down by tomorrow, and I'll take her out to a really classy restaurant to make it up to her_. He missed Ellie, though. He hadn't talked to her properly in weeks. _Well, what's one more day?_ he thought philosophically, unusually philosophically for him. Had he been in a different sort of mood he would have reflected pessimistically that something would probably go wrong tomorrow, too. He thought for a minute, and then decided to go out to the library for a little research and then down to the local café for a cup of coffee and a sandwich.

Donning his normal gray-and-black outfit, he grabbed his cane, his notebook, his wallet and a pencil and strode out the door.

He stayed out longer than he had intended, taking a stroll down one of the classier streets and window-shopping, especially in some of the nice jewelry stores. _You know what…_he thought impulsively, stopping suddenly. _Ellie said she wasn't going to be the fourth _ex_-Mrs.-Malcolm, but she never said she wouldn't be the fourth _Mrs._ Malcolm._

Much later, in very different circumstances, Malcolm was to reflect that had he not stopped to get Ellie an engagement ring and then gotten caught in a traffic jam afterwards, things might have turned out very differently. On the other hand, he would reflect glumly, no matter what chaos theory said, there were certain things that stank of karma, and in any case, it really didn't matter, since he had stopped for the engagement ring, and he had been caught in the traffic jam.

The traffic jam so annoyed him that, as soon as he was able, he pulled off the road, parked, and wandered into a second-hand book shop, where he discovered an old favorite he hadn't read in years. This he bought, and then took it out to his car, where he read it avidly for some hours, until with a start he realized that somehow, between the leisurely coffee, the window-shopping, the traffic jam and the reading, it was 6:30 and he was due at Hammond's house in precisely a quarter of an hour. _Hell!_

He tossed the old favorite into the back seat and decided immediately that he didn't have time to go home before going to Hammond's. The result of this was that he never got Ellie's message, and Ellie, rather than being worried the next morning when he didn't call, assumed that he was still angry with her. A fatal chain of circumstance met a fatal chain of careful planning and a dreadful experience which had been merely probable before became inevitable.

* * *

Ian Malcolm ran a hand through his dark hair, the only concession he made toward making himself presentable before he rang Hammond's doorbell. Unsurprisingly, the old man lived in a veritable mansion, with marble steps and _faux_ Greek columns as part of the façade. Malcolm snorted. Typical John. He had an amazing capacity for vulgarity.

A blank-faced butler answered the door. "I'm here to see Mr. Hammond," Malcolm said, unconsciously leaning into a pose as reminiscent of a rock-star as possible. The butler, despite evincing no emotion, seemed to exude an air of disgust as he asked, "Whom shall I say is calling?"

"Malcolm. Ian Malcolm. The babysitter," Malcolm replied in his best sardonic drawl.

"Just one moment, sir."

He ushered Malcolm into what appeared to be the lobby of a five-star hotel. Malcolm's eyebrows shot into his hair as he gazed at a glittering chandelier which appeared to span half the ceiling and a floor tiled smoothly in black, white and gold diamonds. _God, does he ever flaunt it!_ Malcolm felt a twinge of amusement; there was something so fake about the gaudy atmosphere that he couldn't help feeling as if somehow, someone would pull down a backdrop to expose the bare boards and plaster beneath.

It was only a moment or two later that Hammond came hurrying down a wide, red-carpeted staircase which was reminiscent, to Malcolm's mind, of every royal-palace set in Hollywood, and was probably intended to be.

"Good evening, Dr. Malcolm," he said smoothly.

"Good evening," Malcolm responded, with just a trace of sarcasm. "Nice place you have here."

The faintly derogatory note in his voice must have pierced Hammond's cool exterior, because he flushed slightly. "I'm glad you like it."

"But I'm wondering why you, uh, why you need a babysitter when you have tens of thousands of, uh, servants to upkeep your house."

"Because the only servants employed are Redding, the butler, one cook and one maid, and all three have their night out tonight. It's most inconvenient, but there it is."

"Ah, I see," was Malcolm's bland response. "I take it you're leaving shortly?"

"Indeed, indeed. I'll get the children down. Alexis! Timothy!" he called.

_God, no wonder the kids wanted to see me. They must be dying for a touch of normality in this place._

After a short pause, Lex and Tim came running down the stairs. Both looked a little older, and Lex just a bit thinner, than when Malcolm had seen them last, but otherwise, very little changed from the two children he had known briefly--and had risked his life for--some months before.

"Dr. Malcolm!" both called. They held out hands to be shaken, diffidently, Tim polite but slightly distant, and Lex--still there was that same sense of pleading about her Malcolm had heard in the morning over the phone, but Malcolm couldn't quite make sense of it, couldn't understand what she wanted. _At least I don't think I'm imagining it._

"Well!" said Hammond with a geniality that Malcolm was certain he didn't feel. "I'll just be going, then. Dinner is waiting in the refrigerator; Timothy's bedtime is at eight, and Lex's is at nine. I should be back by midnight at the latest. If you have any questions, you can reach me at the number written on the chalk-board in the dining room."

"Sure," Malcolm responded.

"Well, er, good night."

With that slight anti-climax, Hammond moved swiftly toward the door; a second later, it swung softly shut behind him. Malcolm turned to Lex and Tim. "Well, kids," he said with a false cheeriness he didn't feel. "What would you like to do?"


End file.
